The Lady in White
by Gratiae
Summary: Spencer gets himself in over his head on his second date with Calliope Sellers. One-Shot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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_"Each moment of a happy lover's hour is worth an age of dull and common life." - Aphra Behn_

o o o o

5 September, 2008

"Are you sure about this?" Dr. Spencer Reid asked, looking down at the pamphlet in his hands. They were standing in a parking lot in the dark with the street lamps illuminating their surroundings. _The Ghosts of Fredericksburg Tours_ pamphlet was creased where he'd opened and closed it over and over.

"What?" Calliope Sellers grinned next to him. "Are you scared?"

"N-no!" Spencer protested, glancing at the tiny redhead.

"Are you sure? It's okay if you're scared. Everyone gets scared, even big brave FBI agents," Calliope's smile was impish as she squeezed his fingers briefly before letting go. The small, purple Eiffel Towers hanging from her ears glinted in the light from the lamps as they moved with Calliope's movements and Spencer wanted to reach out and still them, not that the stillness would have lasted more than a moment. Instead, he lifted his hand and tucked the end of her yellow lace bow back down to lay flat, instead of sticking up like it had been since they sat down for dinner. "Thank you, String Bean," Calliope fidgeted from foot to foot.

"You should have brought a jacket," Spencer told her absently.

"I'm fine. And don't change the subject, Dr. Reid, you're a big, fat chicken!"

"I'm not afraid!" Spencer told her again.

"Whatever you say, Dr. Reid. Oh! He's starting."

"Fredericksburg has been called the most haunted city in the United States and, with a past that stretches back to pre-colonial times, it's no wonder at all. Fredericksburg is home to five major battles from the Civil War, the bloody climax of the war, The Battle of Fredericksburg, the Second Battle of Fredericksburg, the Battle of Chancellorsville, the Battle of the Wilderness and the Battle of Spotsylvania Court House. There were 18,000 casualties over the span of four days in December of 1862 at the Battle of Fredericksburg."

"17,929," Spencer mumbled without thinking and Calliope suppressed a giggle. Blushing brightly, Spencer clamped his mouth closed. It was only their second date. He couldn't embarrass himself any more than he already had! He'd already shown up 45 minutes early. He couldn't show her how much of a loser he really was or she'd never want to see him again.

"How many people died?" she whispered as the speaker continued talking about the Battle of Fredericksburg. Spencer bit back the immediate response and chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I know you know, Spencer. How many?"

"There is no definitive answer, only estimated, but the Virginia Foundation for the Humanities says 1,180 Union and 608 Confederacy. However, the VFH's account of how many casualties there were conflicts with the Civil War Trust's and the Heritage Preservation Services, which are more reliable sources for accurate data about the Civil War. Even those are subject to scrutiny from historians who don't agree with their data."

"Who lead the Union?" Calliope quizzed him with a smile.

"Ambrose Burnside," Spencer answered automatically.

"And the Confederacy was led to victory by Mr. Lee, of course," Calliope whispered back. "You know, my great-great-great-great-great grandfather, Charles Sellers, died at the Battle of Fredericksburg and his son Thomas, my great-great-great-great grandfather, died at the Battle of Chancellorsville."

"Are they buried in the cemetery?"

"No, the family brought them back to Williamsburg and they're buried there."

"Your family must have been fairly wealthy at that time. Only officers or wealthy soldiers were taken home, it was too expensive and time consuming for the armies to send soldiers home."

"They were better off then most," Calliope told him simply. "Okay - Mr. Tour Guide said there were 6,000 casualties. How many were there really?"

"5,872."

"Once, last year, I was walking through the died at the Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park and, I swear to God, I saw a confederate soldier kneeling at the Spotsylvania monument," Calliope said, her voice still hushed. "He was all translucent and I could see the monument through him. And then he just vanished into thin air. Things always vanish into thin air. Why does no one ever vanish into thick air? Why is it always thin air? If I vanish, I want to vanish into thick air. None of this 'thin air.' I want my vanishing air thick on chocolate cake. But why does no one ever vanish into thick air, Spencer?"

"I... I have no idea," Spencer blinked. "I don't know."

"Is that the first time you weren't able to answer a question? Is that the first thing you don't know?"

"I don't -"

"Oh my God, I stumped the genius. Does that make me a genius?"

"Well, the phrase originated in 1604. Shakespeare used a close variant in _Othello_. In Act three, scene one, lines 19 and 20, the Clown says 'Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away. Go; vanish into air; away!' And then Shakespeare uses it again in 1610, in _The Tempest._ Act four, scene one, lines 166 through 168: 'These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air.' The phrase became more standard in about the 17th century and the completed phrase, the first of which was found in an Aprin 1822 edition of _The Edinburgh Advertiser_ where they say 'The latest communications make these visions "vanish into thin air."'

Calliope paused for a minute and then spoke, "God's infinite, right? There's nothing He can't do?"

"That seems to be the general consensus," Spencer nodded, wondering where this was going as they followed the tour guide

"So, can God make a road so long He can never get to the end of it?"

"Theoretically, I'd assume so."

"But if He can't get to the end of the road, than there is something He can't do. He can't get to the end of the road. But, if He _can_ get to the end of the road, then He can't make make a road so long He can't get to the end of it. Does that mean God isn't infinite? Huh? Huh? Huh? Answer my question, Genius."

"I didn't know Thomas Aquinas had been reincarnated as Calliope Sellers," Spencer quipped, hushing her when a family next to them turned in annoyance. "Shhh, people are staring."

"Ha! Another question you can't answer!" Calliope did a little dance of celebration and wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug, not caring at all if people stared. "Ohhh, this is my favourite part, shhh, Spencer."

Spencer rolled his eyes at her shushing him and turned to listen to the man giving the tour.

"St. George's Episcopal Church was Fredericksburg's first church, the parish was established something in the 1720's and the church was completed in 1741. That wooden frame church was once attended by Mary Ball Washington, who was accompanied by her son, George Washington, often."

"Oh, get to the good stuff," Calliope murmured so only Spencer and the already annoyed tourists would hear her.

"Shhh!" Spencer turned red as the family glared in their direction again.

"Oh come on, you know all this stuff already, don't you? He's just going to say 'The wooden frame church was replaced with a brick building in 1815, but this current building replaced the second building in 1849.'" Calliope said the words exactly as the tour guide did, when the tour guide did and Spencer raised his eyebrows.

"How many times have you taken this tour?"

"Now he's saying that the church damaged in the Battle of Fredericksburg after taking cannon fire and the Union Army used it as a command post after taking the city at the end of the Chancellorsville Champaign. After the war, the town repaired the church, putting in the town clock and the three Tiffany windows, as well as the rest of the stain glass, but they retain the original pews and organ."

"You've taken this tour way too many times."

"Shhh! It's the good part!" Calliope elbowed him in the ribs and turned to the tour guide with rapt attention.

"Rich in history, St. George is haunted by a ghostly apparition. The woman in white first appeared in -"

"1858," Calliope whispered excitedly.

"The night was beginning to darken when Miss Ella McCarty, a young woman in the parish's choir, entered the church, early for practice."

"Her friend and the organist both went to look for more lamps," Calliope continued quietly, her voice holding an eerie tone the tour guide couldn't quite capture. "Ella walked up the stairs to the choir loft, where a single lamp inexplicably burned. Up in the choir loft, Ella turned to look out over the pews. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands to cut off a scream. Down below, a lady in a lacy white dress kneeled at the alter and prayed, her face obscured by a veil. Ella wanted to scream, wanted to run from the church, but she couldn't. The only way out of the choir loft was straight past the lady in the white dress."

Spencer felt goose bumps raising along his arms and the hair at the back of his neck prickled.

"Ella began to fear that her companions would walk up on the ghost. What if the ghost was a vengeful spirit? But how did she warn her companions without alerting the lady in the white dress to her own presence? Ella was debating this very thing when the lady in white stood and looked up, directly at Ella. The two stared at each other and Ella's fear began to melt away. The lady's face was so heart-wrenchingly miserable and troubled, as if she held the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"Ella thought that perhaps the lady wasn't a ghost at all. No ghost could possibly be so forlorn. Just as Ella was about to call out to the lady, she vanished - right into thin air. Never to be seen again."

"She didn't vanish into thick air?"

"Hush, you."

The tour began to move on to the next stop, but Calliope grabbed Spencer's arm when he started to move with them. She held a finger up to her lips and Spencer gave her a questioning look, but didn't speak. He followed her as she dashed towards the church and around the corner. She stopped at a back door, well out of view from the streets and pulled a lock pick from her pocket.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asked, alarmed, as she slipped the tension wrench and the snake pick into the lock. "You cannot break into a church! Calliope!"

"Shhh! Spencer, someone's going to hear you!"

"Calliope, I'm a federal agent and this is very much against the law! This is breaking and entering. In a church!"

"Technically, it's only breaking. We haven't entered yet," Calliope assured him, as the lock clicked. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. "_Now_ it's entering. C'mon."

Calliope grabbed his hand and yanked him through the doorway before he could protest or properly plant his feet. He was barely through the door when she closed and locked it behind him.

"What are we doing?" Spencer whispered. "We need to leave."

"We're catching Esmerelda."

"Esmerelda?"

"That's what I named the lady in the white dress. I've been trying to catch her since I moved here. C'mon, let's go up to the choir loft." She grabbed his hand again and dragged him, protesting vehemently, behind her until they reached the stairs. She pushed him ahead of her and practically shoved him up the stairs a step at a time until they were up in the loft.

"You are completely crazy, you know that?" he told her in a hushed tone as they crouched down behind the solid railing and watched the vestibule below. "I thought you didn't like scary things."

"I don't. But ghosts aren't scary," Calliope said quietly, "unless they're in Supernatural, of course. Then they're damn terrifying. A real ghost can't hurt you - it'd pass right through you. Well... I guess if it threw something at you that might hurt. Because if it can open a door, then it must be able to pick something up to throw it. Hmmm... I don't think I thought this all the way through. Anyways, I don't believe ghosts are here to hurt people. I think they linger on earth because they've left something unfinished in life. I just wish I knew what Esmerelda left unfinished. She's so sad. Something terrible must have happened to her."

"I highly down her name was Esmerelda, if the tale's real at all. If only one person's seen her, Ella McCarty might have just made the ghost up for attention."

"Don't say that about Esmerelda!" Calliope gasped. "He didn't mean it, Esmerelda. He may be a genius, but he has no idea what he's talking about."

Spencer couldn't help but smile at that, at the ernest way Calliope gazed out into the vestibule when she spoke to the ghost Spencer was quite sure didn't exist in the first place.

The door of the church creaked as it opened and Spencer's heart stopped. Maybe Calliope was right. The goose bumps were reappearing on his arms when a flashlight beam penetrated the darkness and Spencer shook his head at himself.

"Hello? Anybody in here?" A man's gravelly voice called out and echoed slightly as it reverberated around the lofted ceiling. "The church is closed."

Calliope clamped a hand over Spencer's mouth and they hid behind the railing silently. Spencer's heart pounded. He was going to be arrested. He was going to be arrested for breaking and entering in a church. How the hell was he going to explain that to Hotch? Morgan would never, ever let him forget it. He was going to be fired. He was going to loose his job and -

"Calliope Sellers, if you're up there in the loft again, come out before I have to come up there," the smoker's voice called up with a sigh.

Giggling, Calliope poked her head up just enough that her hair and eyes were visible over the railing. "Hi, Hubert. How's the wife and kids? Is your granddaughter walking yet?"

Sheriff Hubert Rollings shook his head in resignation and waved for her to come down. Calliope stood and dragged Spencer up with her, who followed dutifully, mentally mourning his career and wondering how much community service he'd be doing.

"You dragged some poor guy into this with you? Callie, you know the church put in an alarm system last year. You have _got_ to stop breaking in to try and spot that danged ghost. She doesn't exist. And, even if she does, she hasn't been seen in two hundred years."

"Esmerelda _does_ exist and what better time for her to be seen again than two hundred years after she was last seen?" Calliope protested to the old sheriff.

"I don't care. You can't keep breaking into the church. Next time you do, I'm going to _have_ to arrest you."

Next time? Spencer's head perked up at the phrase. He wasn't going to be arrested? Spencer gave an internal sigh of relief. He wasn't going to be fired. He wasn't going to have to explain this to Hotch or listen to Morgan tease him relentlessly.

"Word of advice, son?" Sheriff Rollings looked towards Spencer now. "This girl may not look it, but she'd trouble with a capital T."

"Hey!" Calliope protested and Sheriff Rollings' expression softened into a smile.

"Eh... she might be worth it," Sheriff Rollings winked at her. "Come on. You two have to get out of here and _not come back_. At least not when it's closed."

Calliope grumbled as they followed Sheriff Rollings out the way they entered. Spencer turned for a single look back and stopped.

A lady in a white lacy dress knelt at the alter, her head bent down and her face covered by a lace veil. Her dress had big, gigot sleeves and a narrow, pointed waist with a long, pleated skirt held away from her legs by petticoats. Her hair was up in an elegant bun with curls around her downturned face. She turned and looked straight at him. Their eyes locked through the white veil and Spencer stood rooted to the spot

He blinked on instinct as she was gone.

"Spencer?" Calliope called back and Spencer turned back, hurrying to catch up.

The lady in the white dress hadn't been there. It was just his imagination, surely. The power of suggestion and nothing more.

But Spencer couldn't erase from his mind the look of sorrow in her eyes, no matter what he told himself.

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**A/N:**

**This is a birthday present for my lovely friend Ripon, who asked for more Early-Spencer-and-Callie! It's slightly belated, because I didn't get it finished before I had to go to work yesterday. Anyways! Happy birthday, hun! I hope you liked it!**

**Hokay. This is actually a continuation of a previous one-shot, _Lace_, which is up on my page. It's Calliope and Spencer's second date. If you liked it, feel free to go visit their story _Mystery Muse_ and it's sequel_ Welcome to the Whirlwind_ as well as their many one-shots. Yay! **

**Well, I have a final today, so I better go and get ready or I'll be late and that would be bad!**

**Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. All the facts in this story are true, except for Charles and Thomas Sellers because, hi, I made them up. The ghost story is also real story, however, I fabricated the name Esmerelda. If the ghost is real, her name was probably Mary or something like that.**


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